


worth it

by irabelas



Category: Bleach
Genre: Aizen Sosuke Being a Bastard, Dirty Talk, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, There's A Tag For That, just a tiny bit, just some framing, negotiated consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irabelas/pseuds/irabelas
Summary: You're fed up with being locked up.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Original Female Character(s), Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Reader, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/You
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	worth it

**Author's Note:**

> mind the tags darlings.

Your feet tap against the floor and you desperately wish you could be quieter. It’s hard, the halls are long and tall and stoney and every step falls and echoes like it has a hundred siblings. It’s nerve wracking, it feels like you’re being watched, followed, preyed upon.

You shouldn’t even be out here - here, being too far away from the safety of shut doors and barred windows. The moon is high and bright in the fake sky of Hueco Mundo, and it casts your shadow long each time you pass a window.

Your heart is racing in your chest now - you don’t even know where you are anymore, having taken too many turns and opened too many doors to even find your way back. It’s too late to go back now - you wouldn’t, you _couldn’t_ go back now…

You haven’t passed anyone by yet - you’d hoped to meet anyone, lowly Arrancar or... really anyone. It was unnerving, to wander halls and not meet anyone. It felt like you were walking in circles - everything looked the same. Maybe half an hour had passed since you left your room - kept unlocked, as always. They did that to you - left you with choices when you really had none. The implication of what would happen should you try to leave were always whispered among the other captives, underlying in the way that Aizen spoke to you. 

The memories, the thought of punishment, only made your heart race even louder in your ears. Fear started rising in your chest, and suddenly you didn't feel as reckless as you had just a moment ago. Perhaps you should just sit down and wait until someone came for you. You shake your head - there was no reason for regret now; you’d do that if you got caught. But you _had_ left hastily, not thinking much through. The want, no, the _need_ , to get away from your little room, your prison, to get away from the overwhelming feeling of being nothing more than a captive had sprung you into action. You’d rather rot away in the halls than in that room, even if it meant running forever—

You take a shuddering breath and almost scream as a hand grabs your shoulder. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” A low voice tells you.

You spin around so quickly that you almost give yourself whiplash. 

Grimmjow stands tall above you - and all you see is sharp, hard blue eyes and even sharper teeth. 

You hadn’t even heard him coming up behind you - or maybe you had, all those echoing steps mingling together. You swallow hard up at him, at a loss for words. 

You’ve met before - or well, you’ve _seen_ each other. It is hard not too; you’re by either Aizen’s side or by a much lower lever Arrancars. You know him, _of course_ you do, and what rank he carries, having paid close attention to each of the high ranking Arrancars at every opportunity given. He’s usually smirking, you recall, pearly whites sharp and scary. He looks wilder than most of the other’s - most of them seem calm, like they’re trying to pass as something else than glorified hollows that got lucky. 

Except, this time Grimmjow’s not grinning - in fact, he doesn’t even look like he’s surprised to see you. His brows are tightly knit, like they’re stuck together in a permanent disapproving scowl, but the heat that’s behind his gaze makes your stomach churn.

“He said you’d do something like this soon.” He finally speaks, and it’s lazy, disinterested. 

“W-who—?” You blink at him, ice-cold fear traveling through your legs. He holds your eyes in a way that’s much more suffocating than you’ve ever felt from any of the Espadas. 

“Don’t be stupid. _Aizen_ ,” Grimmjow snorts, rolling his broad shoulders. “Who else is there?” 

“He talks more than he should, sometimes.” You reply, bitterly. “Did he tell you to do this? To catch me?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself. You think he’d send the _Sexta_ Espada after you?” He huffs at you, as if he’s offended, hands shoved into the pockets of his hakama. 

Well, no. Aizen wouldn’t do _that_. You weren’t particularly fast or strong or… well, in need of subduing. All those ramifications pressed into your skull had made sure that your cooperation came easy whenever needed. Disobedience did not come to you easily. That you were even here… out of your quarters, speaking to Grimmjow, was rattling to you. 

“Not like you wouldn’t be caught,” Grimmjow continues on, blue strands of hair falling in front of his face, his mouth widening and showing off sharp teeth, “ _I_ just happened to catch you.” 

Silence falls between you - he’s eyeing you, sizing you up. 

Fleeing your comfort and security had been a careless move - Aizen had told _him_ , probably all of the Espadas, that you’d do something like this soon; was this just some mind trick on his part? Had Aizen pushed any particular buttons to make you do this? Had he screwed enough with your mind that you couldn’t even tell when he was trying to influence your decisions? 

It only strengthens your resolve to get away.

“You _haven’t_.” You’re running before the words fully leave you, moving away from Grimmjow and trying to put as much distance between you as your legs can manage.

You don’t get very far.

“D-don’t—“ you yelp as a large hand grabs at your throat, Grimmjow appearing in a flash of _sonido_ and you regret trying to escape more than ever. 

“Disappointing,” his grip around you increases as you struggle against him, “was hoping you’d make this a bit more fun for me.”

Blue eyes roam over your body - up and down, before finally settling on your face and this time he’s grinning, drinking in your fear as you wrestle against his suffocating hold.

He starts to drag you away.

“Stop—” You struggle more profusely, and a seam of your clothes starts to rip a bit. “He doesn’t care about—“ _about_ _me_ , the underlying meaning lingers in the air. “He _won’t_ care—“

“That one of his _toys_ is trying to escape?” He knows what your role here is - of course, he’s seen you in that hall before, draped over Aizen enough times for him to come to his own conclusions. 

Grimmjow doesn’t stop - he continues moving, bringing you towards your presumed end in long strides. 

“I’m not—” you begin to speak, incredulous that he’d call you that when you’ve never— you didn’t _sleep_ with him, “I’m not his toy!” 

He snorts at you, looking down at you through his nose. “You believe that they leave your cage unlocked so you can just wander around? Think you’re special?”

“He won’t—” you start again, trying to find purchase against the grip Grimmjow has on you, fingers wrapping around his wrist. Finally, you take as much of a deep breath as you can, trying to tell yourself that you’ve got this, you can make it through this. “L-let me go back there myself.” 

“Why should I?” Grimmjow raises a brow at you, letting go of your throat just as abruptly as he’d got ahold of it.

Your feet hit the floor with almost no sound, and you cough. “I—“ your hands feel along your throat, stroking away at the soreness, “you’ll have a favour to collect.” 

“Got nothin’ I want from you.” Grimmjow drawls, like he’d rather be off doing something else entirely. 

You consider just letting him take you, to drag you along to the punishment that surely awaits at Aizen’s feet. But you’re tired of being pushed and pulled and shaped by the wants of others, never given a choice. It slips through you with cold realization that you’d take _anything_ over being seen as a mindless doll, posing for Aizen’s amusement. 

Grimmjow’s still grinning down at you, like he’s enjoying this, watching you squirm and try to work your way out of this - and you decide to work with what you got. You’re relying on his impulses, that he has an itch that needs scratching, that he sees you just the way you expect him to.

“I’ll suck your dick,” you offer.

The proposal throws him off for just a moment, his eyes widening just a bit as his smirk falters.

You shrug, uncommitably, like you hadn’t just offered your body for his... what exactly? 

Grimmjow laughs then. Guffawing, loudly, and it rings through the long corridor. You cringe at it, how stupid it makes you feel. 

It stops just as suddenly as it started and he leans down, nose to nose with you, the hollow mask by the side of his face almost touching your bare face. “What’s stopping me from just doing what I want?” 

“I’ll—“ you swallow and shake a bit, feeling a droplet of sweat drip down the back of your neck as your stomach turns at the way he bares his teeth, grin widening ferally, and you risk it, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He laughs again, quieter this time, and you feel embarrassed, breaking the eye contact he was forcing you into - but then his hands grab at your collar and you’re pulled up and dragged along, shoved head first past a door you hadn’t even noticed. It closes behind you and darkness fills your vision as you’re catching yourself against a wall. A window - just as barred as the one in your own room - is high above you, letting in much less moonlight than in the corridor.

A hand on your shoulder shoves you down, the touch making you jump. Grimmjow doesn’t use much force, and you’re too rattled to resist him, the hard stone hitting your knees as you sink down, now facing his towering form.

The room is small - if you stretch out both your arms you’d hit the other walls. You’re breathing harder now, heart beating in your throat. You don’t get nervous - you don’t, you tell yourself as your head moves up, watching Grimmjow, painted in pale moonlight and catching his eyes. He’s grinning still - like he can’t stop. You don’t give into the primal reaction that wants you to shrink away from him, to stop this now. 

Instead, you steady yourself and let your hands move to his legs, wrapping around his calves and making their way upwards. It’s slow - deliberate, and you keep your eyes locked to his blues. Before you even reach his knees he grabs your head, pushing it against his groin. The shaft is half hard against your cheek as he humps against your face. Your hands don’t give in, don’t stop moving up his legs, rather, they tighten their hold on him.

“You do this for everyone who catches you wandering about?” Grimmjow finally asks, punctuating his question with a thrust against your face. 

You stop the path your hands were making, just above his knees. “Not interested then?”

Struggling to pull you head from his nether regions you catch the way his face drops for just a second.

“Didn’t say that.” His grip in your hair tightens as your hands reach his muscular thighs, nails digging in just a bit.

He could’ve just let you go - technically, you weren’t _his_ problem to look after, his ward. The issue is that you feel like you need something - leverage, perhaps - to bargain with, to keep you safe from Aizen finding out, from Grimmjow ratting you out. Something to give you a safe passage - pay the toll or be left stranded on the beaches. He’s taken you up on your offer, and you find comfort that at least _that’s_ working out for you. 

You tug at his clothes, his hakama slipping past his hips and a half-hard cock springs out. There’s no point in wasting time - so you wrap a hand around it and pump, testing a bit as it gradually stiffens in your hand. Grimmjow hasn’t let go off you yet - he’s still watching you every move, watching as you jerk his cock intently. 

Once fully erect, it’s thick, the girth larger than your entire wrist, veiny and bulbous. You swallow a bit, dubiously eyeing the length of him. He’s much too big for you to take easily— he’d _choke_ you— and you realize that if you back out now he probably would just take it with no remorse. 

“Get on with it,” Grimmjow growls testily and you jump. He’d seen the trepidation painting your face - and you wonder if he even considers the ethics of this wholly fucked up situation. 

The answer to your unasked question comes soon enough as his glans push against your soft lips. Opening up, you feel the head drag along the roof of your mouth, slipping through the pliable resistance of your mouth, coating his cock in saliva. A shudder runs through his body. It’s as if he’s testing the waters a bit, pushing in and pulling out halfway - he’s getting his dick wet, slicking it and making the stretch of him by the edges of your mouth almost bearable.

That stops when he bottoms out, forcing in all the way.

He pushes inside your throat and stays there for a moment, feeling the way your throat clutches around him, gasping for air that can’t travel. He pulls back just as you start gagging, letting you cough out spit and precum that dribbles down your chin.

Grimmjow snarls in frustration. “I won’t stop just ‘cause you can’t take it.” 

Tears threaten your lash line again as you look up at him, his fist closing over his dick as he strokes it lazily. You nod. It was this or something... worse.

The head touches your lips again and you let it push inside. His hips jerk forward and forces back to the core of your throat, the glans pushing past your tonsils. The hand not twisted in your hair grabs at your throat, thumb pushing against the head of his cock in your throat. Trying to relax, you suck a breath through your nose, trying to balance the pressure that makes you want to wretch. He keeps you there again, like this is his favorite part - shutting you up with his dick, hearing the way you were failing to keep breathing calmly.

His balls twitch as he continues stroking his cock through your throat.

It’s too much — you tap at his thighs, trying to pull back, your stomach hurtling and doing flips.

Grimmjow doesn’t let you go immediately — you tap more intensely and he snarls, finally pulling back and letting you cough and heave and the tears finally fall. You’re snotty and your throat hurts — he hasn’t even fucked your throat yet, just held you there, and still you’re crying your eyes out at the size of him.

“Let me just—“ he doesn’t let you finish, grabbing fistfuls of hair again and slamming your head backwards.

“I gave you a choice—“ he growls, bending down just enough to let your eyes meet, “don’t make me regret it.”

“Please— I just—“

He was lining up again. “Shut up.”

You turn your head away from him, the thick tip of him dragging along your cheek, painting your check with a mixture of saliva and precum. He growls again, the hold on your head worsening, yet you keep your head turned away from him and the leaking cock. “I will— just let me— I need to adjust.” You shudder, stuttering despite yourself. He could literally just hold you there and destroy your throat, let you choke on spit and cum and bile. It washes over you that this is dangerous - you’re in more bodily harm’s way than you’ve ever been since entering Hueco Mundo. Sure, Aizen had a way of turning the mundane into psychological terror, tearing you down from the inside out - but he hadn’t hurt you physically. His game was manipulation and pressure, of talking and implications.

Somehow, this - being a choice you’d made yourself, that you negotiated, offered, brought you a sense of comfort. You could handle this. 

You’re still turned away from Grimmjow, his dick still hard and jutting against your cheekbone. 

He looks down at you, and you swallow thickly, finally meeting his scorching gaze.

“It's not like I haven’t sucked dick before,” you test the waters, looking up at him through your lashes, still wet and clumped together. “I just need to... warm up.”

His cock twitches right before you - and you take it as an invitation to continue. You let your tongue sweep along the underside of its head. He huffs out a breath through his nose - eyes still locked with yours and your lips enclose around him again.

One of his hands pushes down against you, and you think he going stop you and just take what he wants— instead, the large hand pushes against your tits, grabbing one of them and kneading hard, weighing the fatty tissue in his hand and squeezing as you close your eyes, clasping you thighs together when his thumb flicks your nipple through the thick material of your clothes.

Slowly, you start to take him more and more, each time you pull back you push down a bit more, tongue against the underside of him, mapping out the veins on his cock. It’s much slower than the pace he set before, and you give yourself as much time as possible to adjust to him. His hand doesn’t stop, fondling and groping, tugging at the peak harshly enough that it makes you jump against him. He hums at that, amused, as you still work on easing him into your throat.

Grimmjow moans and you exhale through your nose, feeling a heat pool in your gut, stoked by his touching and grunts, swallowing around him, and his hands find your head again, wrapping in your hair and holding you against him. Finally, you get down the last inch of him, nose pushed down into the wiry hair at the bottom. His fingers dig into the nape of your neck and you’re reminded of just how large his hands are. “T-that’s it—“

When you pull back an inch there’s no resistance in his hands - he lets you fuck your throat on his dick, letting you take and give and suck as much as you can. You set a slow pace, getting used to the feeling of him in your mouth, easing him past your uvula. He’s wet and throbbing, precum hits your tongue every time you swirl it against his glans. In and out, in and out. The rhythm you set makes him pulsate, and you hear him swallow audibly above you. Your hands tighten on the front of his pants, tugging. He catches on as you pull back further, cockhead leaving your throat as your tongue drags around the underside of him again. He’s big and thick, a real good cock - and you’re sure he’s aware, he’s getting off on you straining against him. Still, you hum and swallow around his cock as you give him room to use your throat again, giving him what he wants. 

A low guttural growl leaves him, head thrown back as he slips into your throat again. His hands cages your head, your jaw almost popping from the stress he’s putting on it. You do your best to keep from gagging again, from needing to pull away. At least now he’s moving, not putting a constant pressure on the deepest parts of your throat. 

“So good,” Grimmjow moans into the room, hips starting to rut, no longer the controlled movements you’ve adjusted to, “fuck—“

“This why Aizen keeps you around—” Grimmjow grunts, and it’s breathless and bassy, the timbre of his voice rumbling through him. The control you had slips from you in that moment; you almost startle back from the harshness that he starts thrusting with. He’s not gentle, not at all, pulling back and thrusting back past your tongue and tonsils in one long thrust. “He fuck your pretty face like this everyday?”

You can’t shake your head no, and your reply just comes out muffled against him. The sound of him fucking your throat, the suction, is unflattering and you feel your face going warm under his hands.

“Think he’d be proud seeing you like this, sucking my cock, girl?” Grimmjow’s rough and demanding as he holds your mouth still and open for him, and it becomes harder to keep up with his pace, to keep from gagging and to keep your teeth from snagging against the thick veins of his dick. You whine, and it gurgles in your throat - Grimmjow’s panting now, grunting with every push of his body, muttering incoherently about how tight and wet you feel. He steps forward even more, caging you against him and the hard white wall straining against your head, his cock shoved so far down your throat you can’t even swallow. 

His hips speed up and you’re once again tapping against his thighs, fingers and head shaking from the force of his hips as he throatfucks you, a hand wrapping around your throat again and pressing through your neck against his cock. 

Salty, tangy hits your tongue as he groans louder than before, hips still moving - and he’s cumming, hot liquid filling your mouth and he pushes past your tonsils one last time and spends the last of his orgasm directly down your throat. All you can do is take it, tears brimming your lashes, threatening to fall again, nails scraping against the lower planes of his stomach. He’s panting now - you’re still pressed into his hips. Your vision is blurry from the tears, but you see the way his lower abdominal muscles flex and move with each breath, each thrust, cock still jerking inside your mouth.

It’s back to him pressing himself into you, as far as he can down your throat, and you gurgle and twitch, gag reflex finally giving in. You force it down with all your might - he’s softening now, it’s done soon, _soon—_

You try to pull back slowly. Grimmjow lets you and you swallow thickly, the leftover spit and cum in your mouth going down your throat too.

He leans forward, bringing an arm up and leaning into the wall above you, as you let your head fall backwards to the wall. It shuts away the moonlight from you - all you can see is him - you’re staring directly into his hollow hole, the sharp V of his hips jutting downwards to his now soft cock. You take a hoarse breath, knowing just how sore your throat is gonna be for the next couple of days.

This... this better have been worth it, you hope, looking up at Grimmjow, watching him catch his breath. You’re breathless too, not in a spent way, but because the lack of proper air supply has made you a bit woozy.

Long before you, his breathing calms, being an Espada and whatnot, and he tucks himself away as he pulls back from your kneeling form.

You smell like sex and cum, and you know it, feeling the precum that smeared against your cheek earlier stiffening, and you rub the back of your hand against it, grimacing.

“Wandering around like that is a deathwish, you know.”

You look up at him at the sound of his voice. He’s back to looking like that again - disinterested, hands shoved into his pockets, gazing at you lazily, eyes startling blue. “How do I get back then?”

He looks as if he’s weighing his options a bit, and you wonder if he’s gonna ask for _more_ when he finally replies. “Turn left at the end of the corridor.” 

Grimmjow looks down at you from his nose as your wobbly knees push you up. He shoves a hand through his hair - nonetheless, the few loose strands of blue fall into his vision when he speaks your name. “I never saw you here.” 

You nod at him, blinking a bit that he’d even know it. It would’ve probably been better if he didn't, made things easier. It wasn’t surprising that this was how he saw things - you’d been buying his silence anyhow.

“Likewise.” You finally reply, hoarsely, bringing up a sleeve and wiping at your cheek. He’s still so tall, looming over you. They way he’s looking at you, it sends a chill down your spine, like he’s watching a prey or waiting for you to run from him. You shudder a bit more, breaking eye contact with him and for a moment you think he’s going to pounce on you, like you’ve failed some test of his, that he would shove you down and do what he wants, like he said he would—

And then, you hear the scraping of his shoes against the stone floor as he walks away, leaving you pressed against the wall, heartbeat thrumming through your chest and undeniably slick between your thighs.

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably 12 years too late to be writing but I started rewatching bleach and so here we are.


End file.
